Two Black Sheep
by pyrolyn-776
Summary: "I've seen you before, you know." John Bender says this to Allison with some kind of implication that the others don't catch. Their eyes meet for a brief moment, both sets filled with the kind of recognition that isn't friendship or kindness.


**I wrote this like a year ago. And I just rediscovered it. The Breakfast Club is like my go-to movie for everything: boredom, sickness, movie to bring people together. Anything. So I wrote a little tiny piece about Bender and Allison. Sort of. I hope you like it.**

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><p>"I've seen you before, you know." John Bender says this to Allison with some kind of implication that the others don't catch.<p>

Their eyes meet for a brief moment, both sets filled with the kind of recognition that isn't friendship or kindness, but simply an understanding of the other. He doesn't elaborate and the moment passes. His attention shifts to Brian Johnson's strange walrus mumblings and she is left to gnaw on her hand some more. She lets the bad habit fall to her lap in resignation; there's hardly any nail left to slaughter anyway.

This is eerily similar to past Saturdays. It's almost like John and her are playing parts now. He runs the show, she sits in her corner, and the others are just the guest stars in their little sitcom. Vernon's a regular, too. Playing his part with precision. John is the target of his cynicism and she is the freak that doesn't speak.

Bender takes the lined paper in front of him and crushes it tightly in his hand. Allison saw this coming way before Vernon laid the essay rules out in the usual condescending tone of his. The ginger and the jock watch it sail to the ground, dutifully ignoring Bender as he hums Sunshine of Your Love. They think choosing silence makes them better than him, but John will get under their skin whether they stay silent all day or not. He'll break them with his theatrics, one way or another. He always does.

Claire Standish mumbles to herself something that lets the rest of the room know Bender's small action has gotten to her. The humming stops abruptly, but Bender's one-man show keeps on rolling steadily.

While the instigation continues, Allison thinks back to one of her latest Saturday detentions.

The regulars were absent then, too. A few of them had finally dropped out while the rest were too stoned to even bother showing up. They would face suspensions later. It was just Bender, Allison, and a few randoms. A day similar to this one, but less electrifying. Vernon had laid down the exact same "we're going to try something new" speech, accompanied by the same number two pencils and lined paper.

She hadn't had anything better to do then, either.

The day started out the same way. She was an abnormally early riser, always had been. It was 5 in the morning and instead of getting up, she just laid in bed to stare at the David Bowie poster she had taped to her ceiling when she was younger. One of the corners had started to peel, badly, and she hadn't bothered to fix it. It made her think of herself, like she was just a piece of paper, peeling away slowly. No one bothering to fix her.

"I don't have anywhere to go," she said aloud.

But she did, sort of.

Deciding on what she would do, Allison rolled out of bed quietly and tried to rub the wakefulness out of her eyes. She wished she could sleep the rest of her teen years away instead of just floating through them with the words 'basket case' plastered to her forehead.

She left her room and ventured downstairs, where her father sat at their dining table already. The two were practically strangers, but they shared the early riser gene. He left her a cup of coffee on the counter, the single thing that let Allison know that she hadn't been forgotten entirely. It was the most touching thing he'd do for her during the week, a stronger sentiment than anything monetary he'd ever give her.

On her way out of the kitchen, mug in hand, she said to him, "I have detention today."

"Again?" He didn't sound mad. Or interested. It was just a reflex question.

"Yeah. I have to be there by seven."

"You need a ride?"

It was a five minute drive, at most, and a fifteen minute walk if she walked normally. But it was cold.

She resisted the temptation of sitting in silence with him. "No. But could you pick me up after?"

"Alright."

She nodded and took her coffee upstairs. That was the extent of their dialogue for the day.

A little over an hour later, Allison left her house for a detention she didn't really have. Again. She brought her bag and a sketchbook with her, the two things she didn't leave home without. Just in case she had to jam. When she finally reached the school, she noticed John Bender not too far in front of her, walking towards her. They met at the entrance and started to walk in to Shermer High. Two black sheep huddled together.

"It's fucking cold," he said. She wasn't really sure if he was trying to talk to her or if it was a statement to no one.

"Yeah."

Their steps were synchronized. "Why do you keep coming back?" he asked after a narrowly awkward silence, making her realize that she wasn't as invisible as she had thought.

She didn't hesitate to ask him the same thing. "Why do you?"

He smirked, holding the door open for her. "Nothing better to do."

With a small, unusual smile, she accepted the even stranger gesture and walked in. "Me too," she told him.

That was the extent of her only conversation with John Bender.

Allison stops thinking back and takes a good look at John Bender today. He can't possibly know that their thirty-second conversation resonated with her in ways that most other conversations couldn't. He's John Bender. He spews out lines to make you look like a jackass in an effortless, egotistical way. He's unapproachable, honest and judgmental.

John and Andrew have words before Bender turns suddenly to Brian and says, "Hey, homeboy. Why don't you close that door, we'll get the prom queen impregnated."

Allison watches the confrontation unfold with a tiny smile. If there's one thing Bender definitely is, it's entertaining. Twisted, sure, but entertaining.

And the show carries on.

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><p><strong>How do I bully you into reviewing? Do I add a smile? Do I say please? Do I promise to review something of yours? What do I need to do to get one of those nice comments I know you've got stored in your fingertips? Hmm? Alas, I'm at a loss for what to say. <strong>

**Hahaha, thanks for reading! I appreciate all criticism! :)**


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